Alabama

Updated November 13, 2017 at 1:46 PM;Posted November 13, 2017 at 1:45 PM

Bourbon fans camp out in front of the ABC liquor store on Lurleen Wallace Boulevard in Tuscaloosa. The overnight stay is required to guarantee a chance to buy a bottle of Pappy Van Winkle, a collectable bourbon released once a year.(Will Nevin)

But on the thick grassy lawn adjacent to the store, a small tent city has arisen, and some 15 souls (with more on the way) are ready to spend the night, with a generator, beer and cigars to warm and/or amuse them through the long hours to come -- all in hopes to grab a bottle of Pappy Van Winkle, a select, rare and highly collectable variety of bourbon.

"You gotta be ready to spend the night," said Jacob Carson, who has been waiting in line since 10 a.m. with his spunky four-month-old schnauzer pup Sammy. "For sure."

Carson is No. 9 on a list kept in a handsome leather volume, a measure to ensure some civility to what could otherwise be a savage affair for the aficionados who have one -- and only one -- chance this year to buy Van Winkle bourbon before it hits the secondary (and illegal) market at hundreds or even thousands of dollars a bottle.

"Lots of people don't know about it, so it's like a secret," said Carson, who chose the "homey" Tuscaloosa location over Birmingham-area stores that he said tend to discourage camping out.

He is ready for the night with his dog, his tent and a way to both cook chili and make coffee.

Store #238 opens at 9 a.m.

In 15 hours.

***

Not every state does it this way, of course. Ohio has a lottery. So does Virginia. It's a bit more humane, distilling your chances of snagging a bottle down to raw probability. But it also steals any ability to steer your own Pappy destiny: Under Alabama's system, if you're determined enough -- if you're desperate enough -- that bottle can be yours.

"The Virginia lottery is a replacement of the old waiting list that just got out of control," said a friend of mine, Timothy Williamson, an Orange Beach native now living in Sterling, Virginia who's cast his lot in that state's Pappy distribution system. "In fact, there's several years' worth of waiting list left for the rarest Pappy vintage that hasn't transitioned to the lottery (but the list is closed so it can eventually).

"It's a fair shot for the average guy to get a bottle of something rare. I don't have to pay through the roof, traverse the black market or sit outside a store overnight waiting in line like some alcoholic's Black Friday. I can instead play the odds."

Williamson, having tried Pappy on two occasions in whiskey bars despite not having any luck in the Virginia lottery, said it wasn't his favorite bourbon -- but it was still worth trying to get a bottle of it.

"Pappy's quite good, don't get me wrong, but I have a number of bourbons I enjoy just as much," Williamson said. "It's become more of a collector's journey. I want to say I've owned a bottle and save it for important celebrations like weddings and [Alabama] national championships."

It's a collector's item, yes. But the taste (as I revisit my bottle from last year) is something else. It's initially sweet as distiller Buffalo Trace's ad copy suggests: "Smooth, mellow flavor consisting of robust wheat, cherries and oak." It's the finish, though, that's remarkable. Durable. Persistent. Warm and mellow. Five or 10 minutes after your last sip (and by god, this is for sipping), you still feel it. Taste it.

"I just had Pappy," your mouth says. "And it was good."

***

As I sign in (No. 18) and settle into my chair on the store's sidewalk, Robert Gambrell, an engineering team supervisor, hands me a bottle of beer, a Little Sumpin' Sumpin Ale by Lagunitas Brewing.

"I've never stayed in line for a concert or anything else," he says on the phone. "But for one little bitty bottle of bourbon..."

Robert Gambrell and B.J. Diltz relax as they camp overnight in order to buy Pappy Van Winkle bourbon.Will Nevin

Gambrell is new to the Pappy camping ritual, but he is prepared with a tent and Arturo Fuente Double Chateau cigars. He said he's tried Pappy before -- at Kozy's Fine Dining in Tuscaloosa before it closed -- but he's here tonight for the fun.

"It's insane," Gambrell said, puffing on his cigar. "It really is. You just have to love the effort. It wouldn't be nearly as fun to just buy a bottle."

He had planned to stop at the store on his way to work Monday morning, but after he saw a crowd already gathered Sunday night on his way to church, Gambrell went home to grab camping supplies that were already conveniently in his garage. He was back in downtown Tuscaloosa and in line at the store with No. 17 by 5:45.

"We're rookies," said Gambrell, who at some point handed me a Coors Light. (It was free. I did not complain.) "We don't know what we're doing. But I know we needed beer, bourbon and a tent."

His friend B.J. Diltz, a septic system inspector originally from Abilene, Texas who grabbed No. 16, is the real whiskey expert, and while he prefers ryes -- bourbon's smoother cousin -- he still appreciates many good bourbons.

"This is a win-win for all of us at this point," Diltz said of his chances of snagging a rare bottle in the morning. "I don't need a home run. I'll go with a base hit."

Diltz is one of the lucky few to have actually sampled the rarest Pappy variety, the Pappy Van Winkle 23 Year.

I ask him what it tasted like.

He thinks. Shuffles in his chair.

"There's this initial oak," he says, followed by cinnamon and cherry pie and a "slow warm glow." He goes on, then stops.

"Sorry," he says. "It sounds like I'm making love to a woman."

***

It's midnight. Nine hours left.

Most people are in their tents, and snores thunder from the Gambrell/Diltz tent specifically. (I'd learn later Gambrell was the master snorer.) My weather app says it's 56 degrees, and it's just tolerable enough in my hoodie, long-sleeved t-shirt and blanket. Certainly not frigid, but I wouldn't complain if it was warmer either.

Is it worth it?

The 21st Amendment, the constitutional panacea that ended Prohibition, gave states a wide latitude to regulate alcohol. That's why we have laws that cap the alcohol content of beer, give us "wet" and "dry" counties and make the availability of hooch oftentimes dependent on what day of the week it is. The 21st Amendment is also why we can't simply log on to Amazon and buy a bottle of bourbon or any other liquor.

The question is moot because in the world of regulation we have created, there is no other way.

But really, is it worth it?

"Hell yeah," I would hear Diltz say hours later as we were nearing the end. "It's worth it."

***

It is 4 a.m. I have dozed. I am awake. I am asleep? The tents are quiet, but Lurleen -- loud lout Lurleen -- is not. New friends are easing in, and their numbers are creeping toward the 30s. They have also been home the last 10 hours.

Jarrett Ivey, a helicopter pilot for the city, is watching a Pink Floyd documentary on his iPad Mini when I bother him. No. 24 this year, he was in the 40s in 2016, a spot that pushed him out of getting a bottle of Pappy.

Jarrett Ivey, a helicopter pilot, waits for his chance to buy Pappy Von Winkle. Will Nevin

I ask -- because I am tired and not a nice person --what it was like to spend five hours in line and go home with the functional equivalent of nothing.

"It was good people watching," Ivey said.

Gambrell comes out of his tent looking refreshed. I am jealous. "You look homeless," he says. I am wearing my blanket like a shawl. He takes a bottle of water and declares he's going to brush his teeth. I am more jealous.

I walk to Hardee's, where I buy two sausage biscuits and two large coffees, one for me and the other for Gambrell, which I use to repay three beers.

It is 5 a.m. The store will open in four hours.

***

As dawn streaks over the crest of I-359, things begin to move. Tents are packed. A state police officer arrives, and we start an orderly process that moves our honor code/drunkard's bargain list over to one recognized by the ABC. Workers from the store check our driver's license (it must be in state) before putting us on their list. Then, we're given a "ticket" that looks more like an order form but functions as the former while still giving us a list of what rare boozes the store is carrying today. Once our name is on the official list and the workers have issued us a ticket, we can leave -- so long as we are back by 9.

The crowd thins and relaxes as people go to Hardee's or cars or some other damned warm thing. Gambrell and Diltz leave. The committed and/or analytical stay, peering through the store's windows trying to solve various boxesXbottles equations. We stare at our tickets. Some of those left reach for chewing tobacco. They spit. It is gross.

We wait.

Gambrell and Diltz come back showered and ready for work. I am secretly jealous. At 8:30, we line up one last time, and an hour later, I can see the store's door. There are people, let in one at a time (because a mad herd of people is the last thing you want around thousands of glass bottles) inside buying alcohol. I am not one of them.

The final line before sales begin.Will Nevin

Soon, though, my time comes, and I am inside Store #238 with Gambrell and Diltz and a few others. Because of a limited supply of the rarest Pappy, we miss out on the 23, 20 and 15. But we will go home with a bottle of the 12-year, and that is good enough.

Will Nevin

The buying and selling is easy, and the ABC staff -- on their busiest day -- is helpful. I walk out with four bottles: Pappy 12, Weller Antique (a Dr Thunder-esque Pappy taste alike also made by Buffalo Trace), Elmer T. Lee and Blanton's (because I was running low on Blanton's).

Sixteen hours after I arrived, I load the bottles into my car.

***

It's 10 a.m. The numbers at the end of the line are in the 70s -- they will not receive Pappy (most likely), but they'll get some special bottle like a Weller. It just won't be the one they came for.

A man walks up from the street. It is the last place to park cars. "You need to get a number," someone yells at him, "so you can be the last in line." He inquires at the front of the store. He gives up and walks back to his car.

I show this clump of people a picture of what was there on the lawn only 12 hours ago. They are amazed. They ask what I bought, and I tell them. They are jealous.

Denise Nichols, No. 72, agreed to come to the store as a favor for a "dear friend."

Denise Nichols was at the end of the line to buy Pappy Von Winkle bourbon Monday.Will Nevin

"I'd do anything for him," Nichols said. He did not tell her what time she needed to be at the store. It is not her fault that he will not be getting a bottle of Pappy.

"I've met a lot of nice people," she said. "I tried. I did my best. It was a fun experience."

***

Store #238 will close at 9 p.m. I will not be there to see them lock the door. Given what I was able to get today, it might be some time before I go back, because for the second year in a row, I am exhausted and my home bar is a little more distinguished. Because I did an uncommonly silly thing. Because today, I camped in front of a liquor store for 15 hours.